George Washington (1789 – 1797)
Washington was the first President of the United States and is said never to have lied through his wooden teeth. Which places him at variance with the majority of his successors, none of whom had wooden teeth but lied with great energy and imagination. As Washington was born prior to the adoption of the Gregorian calendar, I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the dates supplied above. For all I know, he may even still be alive and serving as an aide to the current incumbent.

Thomas Jefferson (1801 – 1809)
Jefferson was the third President and one of the most important political figures in furthering the cause of popular music. Appointing George Clinton (b 1941) as Vice President undoubtedly gave rise to a surge in the popularity of Funk music. And the irony of his band name, Parliament Funkadelic Collective, was not lost on anyone, let me tell you.
If you are concerned that Clinton’s birth date is anachronistic, blame it on the bloody Gregorian calendar.

Andrew Jackson (1829 – 1837)
The 7th President, Jackson is the one to blame for the formation of The Democratic Party. He’s also the first and only President to pay off the national debt. He did this by selling off hundreds of his slaves as well as his entire collection of George Clinton albums.
Jackson’s legacy is celebrated in Lonnie Donegan’s‘The Battle of New Orleans’. Donegan, an itinerant musician, was Jackson’s Vice President from 1960 to 1964. (You know it. Gregorian lassitude once more)

Zachary Taylor (1849 – 1850)
The 12th President was the son of plantation and slave owners. He joined the military and was soon killing hundreds of Mexicans and Native Americans. All of which made him the perfect candidate for the Presidency. However, with only a year under his belt, Congress urged action on slavery – and this caused Taylor so much consternation that he went on a nervous eating binge, so much so, that his stomach exploded in a fashionable restaurant. (It is now generally accepted that this incident was the inspiration for the Monty PythonMr Creosote sketch.)

Abraham Lincoln (1861-1865)
The 16th US President, although a brilliant automotive engineer and the inventor of the Model T Lincoln, was extremely forgetful. Thought to be partly caused by hearing difficulties, (see picture) his transient amnesia resulted in him often not being able to remember where he lived. Consequently, his parents arranged for their Gettysburg address to be tattooed on his left forearm.
Lincoln’s success in the automotive industry led to a bitter rivalry with his main competitor, Henry Ford. On Good Friday, 1865, Ford invited Lincoln to his own theatre (Ford’s Theatre) where he was held down and the tattoo surgically removed. The dazed and confused Lincoln stumbled out into the Washington night, unable to remember where he lived, and was never heard from again.

Elizabeth 1 (1558 – 1603)
Last of the Tudor monarchs and known as The Virgin Queen due to her being an ancestor of Richard Branson. She succeeded her half-sister, Mary 1, who had died from consuming vast quantities of vodka and tomato juice in the company of the Russian ambassador.
Elizabeth wanted to extend English influence abroad and commissioned Sir Francis Drake to establish pirate radio outside the 3 mile limit. This really annoyed Philip of Spain who threatened to pull out of the Trade Agreement with England. So Elizabeth sent Drake to Cadiz to singe Philip’s bread. This really cheesed off Phil who told his admirals to launch the Armada against England. Unfortunately, things were done in such a rush that the galleons sailed without the stoppers in their bung holes and very quickly sank.
Elizabeth died without issue so they sent to Scotland for a distant rellie, Jimmy, to take over. Not such a good idea as it turned out. He had a bad attitude, razors in his boots and a passion for deep-fried Mars bars. Unforgivably, he also brought Charles 1 into the world.

Charles 1 (1625 – 1649)
The first of the contrarian monarchs, Charles would argue with anyone about anything. He was, though, an elegant boxer and possessed a divine right. But his constant bickering and fighting were always going to lead to disaster. And so it proved when he insulted the House bully, Ollie, by calling him a ’roundhead’ (a crude reference to circumcision). This led Parliament to order the cutting off of Charles’ moustache, an indignity from which he never recovered. The moustache is buried at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor alongside Henry VIII’s penis.

George III (1760 – 1820)
The third successive George from the House of Hangover. (There are 3 movies about these monarchs – and like their subjects, each worse than the last) This George was absent-minded and managed to lose America. But he did beat Napoleon because he was reluctant to share his brandy – and when he did – passed it, incorrectly, anti-clockwise around the table. Succeeded by his son – you guessed it – George IV, of whom it was famously asked; ‘Who’s your fat friend?’

Queen Victoria (1837 – 1901)
The only English monarch to be named after a railway station, Victoria continued the tradition of marrying a first cousin to ensure the incidence of imbecility in future generations so valued by the monarchy. She and her Consort, Prince Albert, who invented genital piercing for men, had nine children – all of whom married into other European royal families, thus ensuring that haemophilia research would always be well-funded.
Victoria’s reign was marked by the expansion of British rule and influence around the world. So much so that enormous warehouses were built to house the bounty of Empire. These buildings are called Museums.
Victoria was succeeded by her eldest son, EdwardVII, who was the inspiration for JRR Tolkien’s ‘The Hobbit’ because he liked to have two breakfasts.

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William 1 (1066 – 1087)
Bon viveur from Normandy, so incensed at the paucity of tasty cheese across the channel, that he invaded England in order to remedy the situation. Fortunately for him and his following of lager louts, the day they arrived on the Sussex coast, the bloke in charge of the Home Guard, Harold somebody or other, was at Stamford Bridge watching an International between Denmark and Northumbria.
So William took charge, fixed the cheese situation, gave good jobs to his rellies and mates and even found time to write some lists of important stuff. He was succeeded by his son, imaginatively named William II, (Also known as William Roofless because the Normans still hadn’t figured out how to put roofs on buildings) who, like his dad, didn’t bother with Wales.

NB William 1 was also known as William the Concubine for reasons that remain unclear.

Richard 1 (1189 – 1199)

Absentee landlord king who bore a striking resemblance to Sean Connery. Spent a lot of time in the Holy Land, slaughtering the locals who opposed his plans to establish a fast food franchise, The Salad Inn. After that, he lounged around in an Austrian castle waiting for Blondie to turn up and whistle the right tune.
Succeeded by his slacker brother, John, known as Lacklustre, due to the dry, dull appearance of his hair which he could never do a thing with.

NB Richard’s nickname ‘The Lying Heart’ is attributable to his propensity to take power naps at every opportunity. (See picture above) His last words, on 6 April 1199, were, ‘I’m just going to put my cardy on and have a lie down.’

Richard III (1483 – 1485)

Top bloke. Having established his legitimate claim to a chocolate-making business in the so-called War of the Roses, Richard became President of the Yorkshire Rugby League (see picture) and also gained a reputation as a superb horseman – often jesting that he felt his horses to be more valuable than his kingdom.
But it all went wrong for Richard when his accountant, Henry Tudor, embezzled the Crown Jewels with the help of Stanley, the accounts payable clerk, and then mugged Richard in a Leicester car park when he discovered what they were up to. As he lay dying, Richard muttered the now immortal phrase, ‘Another fine mess you’ve got me into Stanley.’

NB It’s not widely appreciated that Richard’s sobriquet, ‘Tricky Dicky’ was acquired by a far less worthy leader many years later.

Henry VIII (1509 – 1547)

Homicidal maniac who succeeded to the throne when his lover, Catherine theArrogant, slew his brother, Art, and his father, Henry, in a week-long ménage a trois of extreme sex and mummery. Henry later used this against Catherine and had her hung, drawn, quartered, beheaded and called lots of nasty names. Historians argue over how many wives Henry had but most of them were either murdered or paid off by his lawyer. Eventually, through misuse, all of Henry’s body parts atrophied and fell off. All that was left was a withered, blackened penis which is buried in St George’s Chapel, Windsor next to Charles I’s moustache.

NB Despite everything, Henry was a gifted musician and won the 1518 Eurovision Song Contest for England with his ‘Sup Greensleeves?’

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I read somewhere that Dan Gilroy’s movie, ‘Nightcrawler’ (2014) is a satire. That it sets out to illustrate how TV News sets no moral boundaries in farming its harvest of sensational, violent breaking news. And I agree – that does seem to be its purpose. The story’s protagonist, Lewis Bloom, (JakeGyllenhaal) stumbles into the world of the stringer and becomes adept at covering accidents and crimes with bloody outcomes. Eventually he learns how to manipulate events, even cause them, so that he and his crew can be first on the scene. TV stations will pay handsomely for such footage. Because it is the stuff that drives the ratings, Get it? When you’re ordering your breakfast TV, easy on the ethics and heavy on the tomato sauce.

But where’s the satire? I’d expect equal parts grim reality and wry, dark humour. Bloom’s not caught up in events where his naivety points up the tragedies that push in on him. He is the events. And his lack of insight alienates him from seeing the tragedies as anything other than product; His psychopathy doesn’t allow him to abandon anything in order to reach that state of sublime unconcern. There is no transit from sentient to indifferent. And so it is with us, or at least, me. I couldn’t engage with Bloom or anyone around him. (Particularly Renee Russo’s grasping news editor. I could find no explanation for her appearance other than a powerful Agent) The story, then, is nothing more than a prosaic commentary. I wasn’t able to laugh and despair in equal measures. There was no anxiety about the state of main stream media that I haven’t already experienced. There was no wry, guarded laughter at the surreal but worryingly tangible future for television news. Just a shrug and a ‘So what?’ Just think for a moment what Charlie Brooker’s ‘Black Mirror’ might have done with this idea and you’ll get a better insight, perhaps, to my reservations. Or maybe it’s all down to Jake Gyllenhaal’s resemblance to Jason Gunn. That certainly didn’t help.

‘That was the story of Howard Beale. The first known instance of a man who was killed because he had lousy ratings.’
From ‘Network’ (Sidney Lumet’ 1976) A satire.

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His question was impertinent
That is – it was not pertinent
But I answered it anyway, starting with a question of my own;
Maybe the question should be; Why is your hair not braided?
Do you think that what I have done is a tonsorial conceit?
Do you think that I seek admission to The Venerable Order of Hipsters?

Let me tell you that the Hipsters are not a war-like people
They will probably inherit the Earth
But my ancestors were indeed war-like. Bellicose. Martial
They were Celts, Gaels and Normans descended from Norsemen
They were Gallowglasses (Elite mercenaries. You can Google them up)
And they braided their hair for war

And my Caledonian and Hibernian forebears fought many wars
Not just, as Mel’s Wallace did, against Edward’s armies
But later against Hanover and the Campbells
And across the Irish Sea, against Henry and John Lackland
Elizabeth, Gloriana, sent her pretty Essex
Churchill sent the fucking Black and Tans

And so I told him; It has a cultural context. Historical hubris if you like
I could have said I’m a muso and there’s an expectation….
I could have said I’m losing it on top and compensating…you know?
But the poet in my Celtic heart needs a badge of some faded glory
It needs free passage along the limbic channel to collective memory
Well, that’s my story to stick to. And it’s me that’s paying, boyo.

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That’s some speech padre. But it won’t save you.I don’t want to be saved, Manolito. Do what you have to.
That’s why I’m here. To do what I must. To finish what was started 20 years ago.You want your revenge?
Not as simple as that, padre. Compensation, justice, release. Yes, most of all, release.You want your release? You give me my release. The perfect deal.

His arid laugh was somehow a product of the border town’s inescapable dry heat as it echoed thinly around the adobe walls. Manolito, though, looked coolly at the old man. He had spent his pity long ago. At his core now was an implacable will – a longing to put right a great wrong. To restore some balance to this skewed and twisted part of the universe.

You have no remorse for the things you taught me to do? You have no sorrow for the lives you infected? You have no shame for the betrayal of your faith?What good is innocence if it cannot be corrupted, Manolito? Temptation is not the province of the evil. It is the justification of innocence. That’s the true meaning of the gospels. Faith is cynicism dressed up by scholars. I am only a herald of the true apocalypse. An acolyte of the Day of the Dead.

Manolito drew his pistol and pointed it at the old man.

Then you won’t need any last words?No. Adios cocksucker.

Manolito saw the blinding light from beneath the old man’s poncho and in that final, desperate instant knew the world’s fury. Understood the anguish of the departed.